Purple Silk

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This gem is part of a Bangtan Writers HQ Valentine's gifting event & goes out to my special Valentine, @hisunshiine , a beautiful fellow writer and an even more beautiful soul. I hope you enjoy xoxo!


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"How many times are you going to bring up the eastern territory lines? My answer is still no." Roland, your pack leader, crosses his muscle-banded arms across his chest. "We have enough trouble from the Jeons without trying to shift the claim lines again. I don't care what that musty old map shows, we keep to this side of the river and that's that."

You clamp your mouth shut, fighting the urge to argue again. Are all alpha's this ignorant or just the one leading your pack? You snuff out that thought before it can be read on your face. It's not fair that the Jeon family keeps pushing their claim further onto your family's land. Over the last five years, they've taken almost 100 acres along the river and Roland doesn't seem to give a shit. It makes you hot under the collar.

"Sir, can we move on to the import tariffs from the north? They're increasing again, the fields haven't been producing the way they should so we're relying more on those goods," your father, a well-to-do beta and Rolands second, speaks up from where he's seated across from you at the large oak conference table. It makes your stomach sour how they can move on so quickly from such an important topic. Sweat pops up along your brow, you scrub it away and sneer at the shine on the back of your hand. The leather jacket you're wearing slides quickly down your arms as you shrug out of it.

"Aye, so the reports say." Roland nods then unwinds his large arms to gesture to the man seated beside your father. "Lou, what's going on in the fields?"

Louis, beta and second to your father, shuffles some papers on the table in front of him. "It's not good, Ro. We think the soils are not turning over the way they should. Not enough water coming up through the ground well. It could take us another season, maybe two, before we can get it back to where we need it to produce for the family." By family, he means your pack. It's not really a family like some would think. It's not a set of parents and their children. It's more like several of those kinds of family units joined together. You're not all blood-related, nor even by marriage for that matter. Family, as you know it, is a choice.

You're part of Roland's family because your great-great-grandfather joined Roland's great grandfather's pack. The only reason you'd ever leave the family is if you were cast out or if by some miracle you find a soulmate. That idea makes you snort to yourself. Yeah, right. Already approaching your late twenties, you're starting to consider maybe you're just a really fucked up anomaly when it comes to designations. Most of your kind present just into their early twenties. It's unheard of for someone your age to not know where they fit in the hierarchy. Even if you were to present tomorrow, not everyone gets a soulmate, you have to be extra special for that. No, you're pretty sure that's off the table for you. Speaking of table...

"-this time next year, if we're lucky it won't be th-" Lou is speaking again, explaining to Roland the best process to roll over the vegetable fields.

The smack of your palm hitting the polished wood surface of the table cuts him off. You're not normally this hostile, but this is just an itch you can't seem to scratch. All eyes go to you, narrowing. You know you're being a bit hot-headed, but honestly, why can't they just fucking listen to you? You ask as much. "Why can't you see the obvious fix to this issue?" You lurch out of your chair, the back of your knees knocking it so hard it almost topples. "That land, the land you refuse to acknowledge as being taken from us, is fertile. We grew plenty there before the Jeon's snatched it up. It's close enough to the river that the irrigation possibilities alone would make it worth it. Stop being such a...a-...being such a..." You swallow hard, throat suddenly parched. Black spots pop up in your vision, the maps go out of focus before you on the table. "If you wo-would j-jus-st," the words slur from your mouth.

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